“So you don’t have any real feelings for me?” he asks, his voice dipping into a low register I’ve never heard before. “Not even a little?” He keeps his gaze steady on me, but his fingers trail down to a soft, vulnerable spot at the base of my neck, and I flinch, like an idiot. I can’t speak; I shake my head. “Really?” he says, one brow raised, looking exactly the way he did that first day I spoke to him, when I claimed to not have overheard his call and he didn’t believe me at all. I hear myself swallow. Try to ignore the sensation of his hands still on my skin. “N-no. None.” Caz responds by
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